


Apple

by collectingstories



Series: Connor Murphy shorts [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Adorable Connor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Needs A Hug, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 06:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: University AU, Connor and his girlfriend enjoy a morning together in his dorm.
Relationships: Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) & Reader, Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)/Reader
Series: Connor Murphy shorts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535135
Kudos: 33





	Apple

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t swim, I just dive, right into those blue-green eyes…spill your emotions into my hands, that’s what I want - Apple, Julia Michaels

The light shone in through the cheap curtains in the dorm room, highlighting Connor’s face and disrupting his sleep. He rubbed at his eyes before shifting onto his back, looking over to the spot next to him. Instead of being curled up under blankets asleep, which is exactly how he left you the last time he’d woken up, you were sitting up. Back to him, fingers swiftly moving on the keyboard of your laptop, the soft clicking making him huff. It was still early and all he wanted was to burrow under the blankets, ward off the sun, and go back to sleep. It had been a late night for both of you. The storm that had started midday yesterday only worsened and with it so did Connor’s mood. Fall was never an easy time for him and the transition to harsher weather made him antsy, angry, he felt a little like he was losing control. 

“What are you doing awake?” Connor groaned, soft voice taking on a raspier quality from the hours unused.

“Sorry,” you turned to look down at him, a smile already on your face. It took no other coaxing from him, you were already closing your laptop and standing up briefly to place it on Evan’s empty bed. 

“Close the blinds too.” Connor instructed, voice muffled as he rolled over to face the wall. He pulled the blanket over his head, just the top of his long hair poking out. 

He’d been threatening to cut it off but you knew he wouldn’t, not with the weather getting colder. His hair was like a warm, worn sweater that kept him comfortable and safe and no amount of threats from him would cause him to do more than let you trim an inch every couple of months. 

Once the blinds were closed you crawled under the covers with him, throwing an arm over his waist and sneaking your other beneath his pillow. He took the hand at his waist, guiding it up so he could kiss along your knuckles, chapped lips scratching on soft skin. Connor gave you a million sensations at once and you loved every single one. You liked quiet moments like this and easy moments when he let you pick the music for study sessions that lasted so long you both had trouble waking up. You liked when Evan was there and the three of you hung out watching movies on your laptop or when Zoe stopped by to visit on the occasional weekend as her and Connor figured out how to be siblings again. 

There were bad times too. You’d been with Connor since the spring of freshman year and you were juniors now. So bad times were only normal. Fights over stupid things like his incessant need to wear the same sweatshirt and never let you wash it, or not wanting you to meet his parents or him not wanting to meet your family. Fights came easily when he wasn’t in his head and they triggered even worse blow ups where he told you to ‘fuck off’ and told you he hated you. Those were the worst times. It’d been a storm like that last night, outside and in his head. He’d said some awful things and you’d waited him out, because you were good at that, at knowing what to say and when. And when he was calm again, when the storm had passed you talked, for a long time, and he apologised and then finally you went to bed. In the early morning hours when exhaustion was making you both irritable you coaxed him to bed. 

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Connor asked, sleepy voice breaking through your own attempt to get in some extra rest. 

“My dad’s this year,” you replied, shifting to press yourself closer to him. 

“Think you can get out of it?” He twisted onto his back again, first pushing you away and then pulling you close once more. “My mom wants me to come home for the holiday and I thought you might wanna come along.” 

“An invitation to the Murphy house?” You smiled, pushing yourself up enough to look at him. Splotchy red skin covering his face and neck, sure signs of embarrassment. He had his eyes closed, as if you wouldn’t be able to see him that way. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He tried to make himself sound nonchalant but it was impossible. He’d been mulling over the ask for days, thinking of how to go about things. 

“I’m not.” You promised, resting your head just below his, the bridge of your nose brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Should I bring something?”

“Absolutely not.” He squeezed your side. In all honesty, if he had it his way he would never bring you home because then he could live in these two separate worlds he’d created. He was still himself in both but he was the worst parts of himself at home. His memories were riddled with guilt over the past but he had promised his mom he would come home this year. He wouldn’t stay at school and hide away from family that he knew only cared about him. But he didn’t want to be alone. 

“Does this mean I can convince you to come to my mom’s Christmas Eve party?” You asked, kissing the underside of his chin and laughing when he squirmed. He was highly ticklish in some key areas and sometimes, only because you loved the way his nose twitched and his face scrunched up, you would take advantage of that. 

“Maybe.” He replied. His skin was hot and the redness had only increased as he thought of it. Evan had been twice in a row now to your mom’s Christmas Eve party. Even Zoe had dropped in last year. But still the thought had his hands threatening to shake and his breath hitching. He wanted you with him the same way he always wanted to wear the same hoodie, the same way he never cut his hair, because you made him feel safe. You eased his mind when it was racing and made him feel grounded when he was slipping away. But what could he do for you? What could you need from him? 

“It’ll be fun, plus my mom wants to meet you.” 

“Why?” The self-deprecating single word question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“Because I talk about you all the time and she probably thinks you’re like, a made up fictional character in my head at this point.” You replied. 

“You could probably make up something better than this.”

You hummed and placed another kiss to his chin, “that’s your perspective. I’m pretty partial to this though, I mean, I do happen to love you. A whole lot.” 

There was a long pause, a silent minute that Connor laid there trying to think of what to say. His gut reaction was to lose his cool, to lash out with all the reasons he wasn’t good enough in some self-sabotaging attempt at making you see your mistake. But he was trying not to do that anymore and trying meant patience and you had a world of it stored inside you. Another kiss was placed right at the base of his neck and Connor exhaled, all of that negative energy escaping from his lips. “I love you too.” He decided. 

And you didn’t mention Christmas Eve again, instead you offered him a real kiss and he melted into it as he held you close to him. When the topic was broached again it was by him, later in the day when you’d woken up again, and he said only that it sounded good and he meant it.


End file.
